I was walking by a local park at 9.30 on a Sunday morning with my hood up (as it was drizzling), when a man crossed the road and began walking quickly behind me. I got the impression he was following me, so I veered to the right to pause and look at my phone, while noticing out of my periphery him turning to see what I looked like as he walked by. I remained where I was until he walked on. I then carried on walking but slowed my pace and shortly after, about ten metres ahead of me, he turned around, walked towards me and said, “Hey, I’ll lick your pussy every night, every night,” to which I instinctively responded “Get away!” and he carried on walking past.

This could have gone very differently I realised afterwards. He was about 15 years my senior and rather built, but I am tall for a girl, but what this indicates is the context is irrelevant, the objective blatant. His pursuit was already in motion before even catching a glimpse of me, aside from my outline. He knew my gender, that was all. There have been countless occasions in which I have been cat-called on the street (not as confrontational as this instance, but it is the same).

Do you have any suggestions for dealing with harassers and/or ending street harassment in general?

Until the persistently objectifying media stops dehumanizing women, until men stop dehumanising women, the only thing you can do is walk away, speak up, raise awareness and challenge the naturalisation of harassment. Most importantly, tell men this is never acceptable.

– MW

Location: Albert Park in Middlesbrough, UK

Sharing our street harassment stories can be so powerful, but it’s not always easy to do, especially in a public setting.

That’s why I really admire Raquel Reichard, SSH’s former social media volunteer (who is now doing contract work for the SSH national report coming out on June 3), who wrote an article for The New York Times about her street harassment experiences and how they intersect with her recovery from an eating disorder. She ends her piece with some hard questions that I don’t have the answers to, but wish I did.

Via The New York Times:

“…Street harassment is a part of my everyday life. And I know I’m not the only one. This is also the reality of countless New Yorkers. So many women in New York City who walk out of their buildings, jump on a subway, head to school, commute to work, jog through a park or grab a bite to eat will deal with some form of street harassment, whether it’s annoying like leering and whistling, or illegal like stalking and sexual touching.

I’m just 23 years old, and I’ve dealt with all of that. But even knowing that the women in this city are surely experiencing the same street harassment that I meet most times I walk out of my building, I still feel isolated and helpless during each encounter.

Even on a crowded block, when my body is threatened, I feel alone. The strong and empowered woman that took years to build loses control, resembling the vulnerable girl struggling with bulimia.

What do you do, then, when you want to fight back against street harassment but you literally fear for your life?

How do you deal with that sense of failure that creeps in when you had the chance to school someone on sexism and the objectification of women but you let your anxiety get the best of you?

How can you truly get over an eating disorder when your fear of the men outside and the potential for sexual harassment keep you in a painfully familiar state of hunger, apprehension and self-loathing?”

Street harassment is a complex issue. It touches each of us in different ways. Through our stories, we can collectively better understand the issue — and then work collectively to end it.

We may feel alone in the moment of harassment, but we’re not. There are thousands of us speaking out and more will join us because of our stories.

All I wanted to do was get pizza, not deal with a random guy who wouldn’t leave me alone!

I went to The Italian Store after work to get some slices of pizza for dinner. Usually this is something I do with little fanfare. But this loud, obnoxious guy was there who wouldn’t leave me alone.

I was very tired during this interaction. (I’d just woken up from my bus ride minutes before arriving at the store and was somewhat somnolent.) These things were on my mind:

*My shoes hurt my feet and I can’t wait to take them off
*My upcoming doctor’s appointment
*I’m hungry and I wonder what slices I’ll get

None of my thoughts were, “Gee, I hope some random man bugs me!”

As I look at the slices on display, this guy, another customer, says, “Whaddup, ma?” at me.

“Don’t call me ‘ma’,” I said. This guy reacts overdramatically, throwing his arms in the air and backing up in this “Gee, what’s wrong with you?” manner.

“Long day?” he asks.

I give a curt “Mm-hmm,” not looking at him.

“Well, it’s over,” he said. Then he makes a comment about me needing to enjoy my day. Since when was he designated the keeper of my moods?

“Do you know what you want?” he asks, referencing the pizza.

I said, “Mm-hmm” again, once again not looking at him, and he goes on about, “I don’t need to talk to you, because you know what you want!”

This guy would not stop attempting to chat me up and wouldn’t leave me alone, and made comments about how I was having a “bad day” which he thought I should’ve gotten over.

“Well, did you have a nice Mother’s Day?” he asked. “Are you a mother?”

“Does it look like I’m a mother?!” I said, clearly irritated. (Looking back, I realize that my comment was offensive, since there’s no one way to “look like a mother.” My being annoyed with this guy was no excuse to make comments like that.)

“You’re clearly not from around here,” he said.

“Got that right!” I said. People working behind the counter started looking over my way with this air that read, “Oh, drama!”

“Well, I’m from the South,” this guy says, being overdramatic with his gestures again. “I’m friendly. I like to talk to people.”

I assumed that this guy was talking to me in a tone that was more familiar than I was comfortable with coming from a stranger because we’re both black, and I asked, “If I were a white woman, would you talk to me like this?” That caught him off guard.

“Would you approach a white woman and say, ‘Whaddup, ma’?” I asked.

“You need to loosen up, baby,” he said. Then, under his breath, “Would I talk to a white woman that way [scoffs].”

“Yeah, you approached me in a way that is too friendly and familiar with me,” I said. “I was standing here minding my business and I want to be left alone. And don’t call me ‘baby’ either.”

He repeated that I needed to “loosen up,” and claimed that he’d leave me alone, but he once again tried to engage me when I made my order and he claimed that I “stole” one of the slices he wanted. He was invisible to me at that point. I was never so glad for him to get his order and leave.

This guy was acting like he was in a romcom. He acted like the goofy guy who keeps bugging the “cold” woman with an attitude until she loosened up and fell for him. Well, my life is not a romcom, and I was not going to “loosen up” for some random guy who, when I said I wanted to be left alone, continued to bug me and put me down because I wasn’t going to cater to his whims.

This guy appeared to be wearing a delivery service uniform, but I didn’t get the name of the company he worked for. If this is his “friendly” approach with women, then he needs to reconsider it, especially when he’s on the clock.

Do you have any suggestions for dealing with harassers and/or ending street harassment in general?

For this situation: Men, don’t approach women with corny slang and lame lines. Say “hello.” If the woman appears interested, you can talk to her, but if she appears disinterested, LEAVE HER ALONE. Don’t push it! Women have lives outside of being hit on and pestered by random men!

– Anonymous

Location: The Italian Store, 3123 Lee Highway, Arlington, VA